


Birthday Surprise

by Treon



Category: White Collar
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 22:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13774146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treon/pseuds/Treon
Summary: It's Neal's birthday





	Birthday Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pechika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pechika/gifts).



> Set in S1. Written for the gen exchange at collarcorner round 50.

It was dinner-time by the Burkes', and El was getting frustrated.  There they were, enjoying their dinner after a hard day's work - Peter and her... and Peter's laptop, which displayed a small, red blinking light on a map.  
  
Finally, she decided to say something. "Why don't you just invite him over for dinner?"  
  
"Hmm?" Peter had been staring at the screen.  Now he looked up, blankly.  "Who?"  
  
El gestured towards the computer.  "Neal."  
  
Peter looked at the computer, then back at El.  He gave her a sheepish grin.  "I'm sorry."  He pushed the laptop away.  Though El noticed it was still clearly in view.    
  
"What do you expect to see there?" she asked.  
  
"I don't know," Peter admitted.  "I'm just.. I'm sure he's up to something."   
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I wish I knew.  It's his birthday today."  
  
El could not see the connection.  "So you gave him the day off?"  
  
"He's a felon."    
  
El took that as a 'no'.  
  
"Besides," Peter added, "he said he wasn't planning on doing anything special."  
  
"On his birthday?"   
  
"That he'd catch up with his files and maybe go to bed early."  
  
"On his birthday?!"  El could feel her jaw dropping.  From everything she knew about Neal, she'd expected something completely different.  
  
"Yeah, that's what I thought."  Peter glanced at the computer again.  The red dot was steadily blinking at the exact same place it had been for the past few hours.  Neal hadn't budged ever since he came home.  
  
"Why don't we go pay him a visit?" El suggested.    
  
Peter got that deer-caught-in-the-headlines look of his.  "Oh, no, Hon, I don't think-"  
  
"Nobody should be alone on their birthday," El declared.  "You're not going to let him sit and read files, are you?"  
  
Besides, she knew her husband.  He'd continue worrying about Neal and what trouble he might be up to all night.  Better to just go and see.  
  
So that's what they did.  
  
Though when they finally trekked up the four flights of stairs to Neal's loft, Peter was still mumbling about how this was probably a bad idea and that he'd rather be home.    
  
They knocked on the door, and after a short pause, Neal shouted, "Just a minute!"  
  
They heard Neal moving about.  Then the door opened wide to reveal Neal, wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants.  He was wiping his hands on a paint-smudged washcloth.  "Peter. Elizabeth."    
  
Peter noted his paint stained clothes. "I thought you said you'd be working case files to-"   
  
El swatted his arm.  "Happy birthday, Neal!"  
  
"Yes, happy birthday," Peter echoed.  He held up a wine bottle.  "We brought you some wine."  
  
"And cake!" El added, raising the tray in her hands.  
  
"Wow. Please, come in."  Neal accepted the bottle from Peter and frowned at the label.  "You really shouldn't have."  
  
"I know," Peter said.    
  
Neal put the bottle aside.  "I wasn't expecting guests," he threw over his shoulder as he hurriedly gathered a jacket from the back of a chair.  "Give me a minute."  
  
He disappeared into a back room, leaving Peter and El on their own.    
  
El moved over to the kitchen table and put down the cake, then started rummaging in the small closet for some plates and spoons.  
  
Peter, meanwhile, walked out to the balcony, where an easel had been placed in front of the New York cityscape.  It was covered with splotches of paint, oozing in all colors.  A half-filled glass of wine was standing on the parafet.   
  
He was about to risk touching the canvas, when Neal reappeared, now dressed in polo-shirt and trousers.    
  
But before he could say anything, there was another knock on the door.  "Let me get that."  
  
It was Mozzie.  "Good evening, Mon Frère!"   
  
Completely oblivious to Neal's attempts to signal that he wasn't alone, he continued, "I know how you're always feeling down on the Big Day, so I thought-"  
  
"Mozzie!" Neal spoke over him, as he opened the door wider.  "Come on in! Join the party."  
  
"Party? You're having a party? And you didn't invite me?"  Moz leaned to look past Neal.  He froze when he saw Peter and El.  "You invited the _suits_ and you didn't invite _me_?!"  
  
Neal took a steadying breath.    
  
El saved the situation.  "Mozzie!  Come, have some cake!" she cheerfully called out.  
  
"Dairy?"  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"Coming!" Mozzie took a few steps into the apartment, then paused.  "Oh, and I brought you a gift."  He produced a wrapped box from his pocket.  Glancing at Peter and El, he added in a whisper, "Better not open it while the suits are... you know."  
  
"Yeah."   
  
"And I would have brought you wine, but your selection is so much better."  
  
Neal waved him in.  
  
With El and Moz discussing cake frostings, Neal walked outside to the patio, where Peter was inspecting the painting he'd been working on.  "What do you think?"  
  
"Oh." Peter glanced at Neal, then back at the painting.  "It's... uh... colorful."  
  
Neal grinned.  "You're really wasting your talents at the FBI, Peter.  You should be an art critic."        
  
Peter rolled his eyes.   
  
"So... you decided to surprise me?" Neal asked.  
  
"It was all El's idea."  
  
"Hmmm."  Neal had suspected as much.  Though he also suspected this little visit was also part investigation.  He wasn't sure he minded, though.  He had thought he'd prefer to be alone tonight, but maybe he was wrong.  
  
Peter looked over at Neal.  He would have loved to know more about Neal and birthdays, but for now, he decided not to ask.  Call it a birthday present.  
  
"Come," he put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Let's make a toast for the birthday boy."


End file.
